


Brilliant

by HogwartsToAlexandria



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Thomas, Exploration, First Meetings, Fluff, Gentle Sex, Hopeful Ending, Kissing, Love at First Sight, M/M, Oral Sex, Original Noble Character - Freeform, Porn with Feelings, Post-Season/Series 06, Praise Kink, Thomas gets some love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:13:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria
Summary: Thomas has stopped hoping for the knight that shall never come. He's stopped trying to read into the looks he gets from men sometimes too; but the Count's eyes on him throughout the night weren't anything if not obvious, and when he discreetly signalled for Thomas to follow him down the hall, it was easy for Thomas to do so.And how brilliant that he should have.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 68
Collections: Little Black Dress Exchange 2020





	Brilliant

**Author's Note:**

> Your letter!! Was!! So!! Inspiring!! 
> 
> I love Thomas so much and I feeeeeel your pain and dire need for more Thomas loving in and out of canon so here is my little "be the change you wanna see" attempt haha. I sincerely hope you'll enjoy this, as it's given me all the feels and although I always love writing gifts for people, the process for this one was extremley special to me because of your letter. 
> 
> 💙
> 
> This could really be set at any point in the series pre-movie but towards the end is probably a good shot, boy needed to grow a little bit so let's do that with him. 
> 
> Thank you to my dear B for the beta, as always 💕

Thomas' gasp is thankfully deafened by the sounds of the ball still going strong down the hall. His hands grip the long metal handle of the service door they're hidden behind, his forehead sticking to the dark glass of it as the hands of his lordship the Count of Mountmire keep mapping the sides of his body above his footman livery. The stiff fabric rustles and wrinkles under the man's questing fingers and Thomas bites his lip so he won't make any noise. Neither of them could afford getting caught, no matter the other man's social status, it would send them both to jail, or worse. Probably worse. 

It gets harder and harder to keep his mouth shut though. There are lips at his neck, and then behind his ear. There's a strong chest pressing him further against the door, and a harder cock poking at his backside despite the layers of their clothing. 

"I have watched you all night," the man whispers in his ear, his tongue flicking Thomas' ear right after, "Did you see me watching you, Mr Barrow?" 

"Thomas," Thomas gasps again, "Please call me Thomas."

"I can do that, yes," the man says, and then he steps back and Thomas almost whines at the loss of contact, but it does not last long enough for the sound to leave his mouth. The man flips him around and rushes back as close as he can, pushing Thomas' back into the door this time and cupping his face, his dark green eyes a well for all of Thomas' repressed, desperate desires. "I am going to kiss you now, Thomas." 

Thomas takes a short breath in, shock and desire warring for the upper hand inside his mind. He nods against the hold of the man on his jaw, but stops to let himself be pulled into the announced kiss. 

It's softer than he thought it would be. In fact, it's probably softer than any kiss Thomas has been able to experience in the past. The count takes his time with him despite their precarious situation. He brushes his lips against Thomas', licks the seam of Thomas' mouth, and then whispers, "Close your eyes," as he does the same. 

Some commotion down the hallway makes Thomas startle quite violently before the count grabs his shoulders gently, then lets go of one of them to put a finger on his lips in a shushing gesture. 

"Come with me," he mouths before taking Thomas' hand and tugging him along towards the other end of the hallway. 

It's his cousin's house so Thomas shouldn't be surprised that the man knows his way around and into the service stairway that takes them to the upstairs bedroom floor. He is surprised when the man keeps his hand in his even after the door is closed and the curtain pulled back to muffle sounds even further. 

"We're not supposed to be here," Thomas says, unable to help looking around them and into the master bedroom he finds himself in. He's really not…

"No we're not," the count smiles at him. Thomas blinks back the need to bite his lip at that. 

He did see the man watching him as he waited on the guests and hosts of tonight. He saw and felt his gaze even, following him from table to table to the wall he and the rest of the staff remained lined against for most of the night until he was relieved from duty. That smile is doing things to Thomas that he's never looked into in the presence of another person before, not someone he hadn't interacted with at least. Except perhaps, for the very rare occasions he's been foolish enough to get pissed at a pub that proved less nosy than others about what the customers got up to in the bathroom. 

"You may call me Oliver," the man pulls Thomas out of his contemplative staring, his lips brushing across Thomas' cheek right after. 

"Wh-- Why?" Thomas stutters pathetically, but the other man -  _ Oliver _ \- only keeps on smiling. 

"Because such is my name, dear," Oliver winks. 

It's only when Thomas once again feels himself being pulled forward, by a strong arm winding around his waist this time, that he realizes he's been stuck, staring at the man with his mouth opening and closing around his name. For some unknown reason, the way Oliver treats him feels different than any other man Thomas has ever even contemplated being with and he's not sure what to think about that, nor if he really wants to think hard on it when he could be enjoying the way Oliver is now sat on the side of the massive bed they'd been standing next to up to that point. 

"Come here," Oliver whispers, his hand brushing over Thomas' clothed chest. 

His chestnut hair is a little astray, and his eyes glint in the soft light of the bedside lamps the house maids must have lit not long before they slipped into the room. He looks breathtaking, it's not hard for Thomas to comply and step forward until he's standing between the man's spread legs. A noise unlike any other Thomas has ever made makes its way out Thomas' lips, thrilled by the fear to be discovered that will never go away but which, for once, is overshadowed by the sense of security he gets from Oliver. 

It's a strange thing, for someone like him who's only ever counted on himself, to relinquish control to another person, to another man whose hands look like they could hold him out of harm's way for much longer than they probably have tonight. 

Oliver buries his face in Thomas' stomach and Thomas' hands make their way into his hair almost naturally. Hands tug him down again, until he's sitting on the count's lap - the fact that their dress attires make it less comfortable than it could be not occurring to Thomas at any point. All he wants is right there, and more it seems, awaits him anyway. 

Sitting on a man's lap is a novel sensation, having that same man's hands travel down the length of his back to settle on his arse and push him closer, until their chests are flush together is another. Figuring out where to put his hands gets settled when Oliver lunges for Thomas' lips again and Thomas finds it in himself to be bolder and cups the man's face so he can explore his mouth a bit. 

Kissing is rapidly going up the list of Thomas' favourite things, and the way Oliver responds to his attempt at leading theirs spurs him on for more. He licks into Oliver's mouth, feeling himself grow hotter under the heavy fabrics of his livery, and as though he's read his mind, Oliver pulls out and starts tugging his bowtie off his neck. 

"Let's get rid of some layers, Thomas," the man winks at him, then proceeds to free Thomas of his jacket and vest in more expert movements. 

Thomas' instincts kick in when the man tries to divest himself of his own clothes. He pushes his hands away, his heart beating in his chest when Oliver raises an eyebrow at him but ultimately lets him do it for him. Thomas slowly unfastens the buttons of the man's tailored vest and shirt, pulling the lapels of the garment from his trousers with trembling hands. 

"Hey," Oliver puts a finger under his chin, "do you want this?" 

His voice is softer than anything anyone's ever aimed at Thomas, his touch gentle as it travels up his cheek and into his hair, cupping the side of his head as Oliver waits for Thomas' answer. 

"This?"

Oliver chuckles but it's nothing unkind, "Do you want sex Thomas? Do you want sex with me?" 

Thomas wets his lips at the words, feeling his cheeks flush no matter the fact that his hands are practically resting on the other man's bare chest and he is absolutely sitting on his lap. 

"I do, but…" he huffs. 

"But you haven't done this before?" 

"I have, just, not like this." Thomas makes a face. 

"Not with someone who wanted you to feel just as good as they did? Not, with someone who wished to map your body with their lips, tongue, and teeth, Thomas?" Oliver murmurs, only stopping when his words fall directly down Thomas' ear and he kisses Thomas' temple. 

Thomas shivers in spite of himself. 

"No, none of that, indeed," Thomas responds, struggling to open his eyes even though he hadn't realized he'd closed them at all. 

"Then let me," Oliver brushes their lips together. "Please." 

"Please," Thomas repeats, giving his assent as he opens his eyes to the other man searching his face with so much care it takes his breath away. 

Arms wind around his midsection, hoisting him up and before Thomas has had time to take another breath in, he finds himself laying on the bed, on his back, looking up at Oliver's face that is framed by his hair falling down with gravity. 

"Just lay back for me," Oliver smiles. 

It's a simple enough request, yet Thomas quickly finds out that staying still while the man undresses him with the utmost precaution, and the most desire he's ever been shown, is near impossible. His knuckles turn white around the sheets he grips in an effort to be disciplined and let Oliver do as he started. 

"You are incredibly handsome, Thomas," Oliver breathes when he's down to Thomas' pants and socks and suspenders. 

"Right," Thomas feels himself blushing. 

"You are, but if I need to show you more than tell you, I can do that," Oliver kisses Thomas' bare hip, right onto the bone and Thomas' air is once again cut short. 

"You are insanely beautiful, my lord," Thomas whispers. 

"Don't call me that," Oliver whispers right back, slithering back atop Thomas to look right into his eyes, "Between these walls, and, we can talk about that later, but beyond them, between you and I, I am no lord, are we clear?" 

His voice is solemn, his eyes are warm, and his hands are soft on Thomas' chest. Thomas nods, then cranes his neck to kiss him again. 

As scary as it had seemed, and how impenetrable their dress code, both men end up naked some time after that, their bare skins flush against each other and it's all Thomas can do not to come at the first hint of Oliver's cock against his own. 

The bed is a mess of sheets they've pulled out of under the mattress but aren't covering themselves with, and their clothes that lay in heaps around them and on the floor but all Thomas can see is the way Oliver traces paths into the skin of his chest, all he can feel, the road he travels with his tongue.

Thomas hears himself whining breathlessly at the first flick of Oliver's tongue around the head of his cock, hard, dripping wet on his hip. It makes him buck his pelvis without meaning to.

"Sorry," he says in a rush. 

"Don't apologize," Oliver laughs. "I like having that effect on you, it's quite rewarding." 

Thomas believes him, because he believes the way it makes  _ him _ feel to see how hard Oliver is, too, and that can only be for him and that's mad, but it's also beautiful. 

"I'm going to put your cock in my mouth now Thomas, and…" Oliver rummages in his discarded trousers and jacket, "Use this," he shows him a jar of what can only be lubricant but not the sort Thomas could buy himself at the black market. "If you're amenable." 

"If I'm…?" It's Thomas' turn to chuckle. "I don't think you could do much that I wouldn't be amenable to at this point, Oliver." 

"Your trust touches me but, there could be," the man smiles, but his voice remains serious, "so if it happens, just tell me, please?" 

Thomas nods, the earnestness in Oliver's eyes catching him by surprise once more. 

Oliver needn't have worried. Thomas has rarely ever felt so good, so out of his mind as he does once the man puts his mouth on him, sliding Thomas' cock further past his lips steadily, licking around the shaft of it and toying with his slit gently while Thomas struggles to not just cry out with the intensity of it all. The warmth feels like it's swallowing him whole, the sparks of pleasure so strong he gasps and loses breath altogether when Oliver adds his slicked fingertips toying with the rim of his arsehole to the mix and Thomas' legs fall open as if on reflex. It feels so good his mind blanks out and Thomas is left scrambling for a handle on reality. He grapples for Oliver's shoulders and hangs on for dear life. 

It's only when Oliver bottoms out inside him what seems like an hour later, when he feels every inch of the man's cock and he feels stretched as far as he'll go and yet nothing hurts, that Thomas realizes how shallowly he's breathing and lets himself moan softly. Oliver looks at him like no one else ever has, like he's truly worth something, like he wants more than what they're doing in the here and now. 

"I have a house, in the Hamptons in America," Oliver says, grunts more likely, above him and Thomas isn't exactly thinking about real estate right now but he listens still. "I'd like to take you there, with me." 

He is listening intently indeed. 

"What?" Thomas knows his eyes are wide, and as pleasurable and immensely satisfying as what Oliver is doing to his body is, he thinks he must look quite ridiculous. Oliver just smiles at him though, even brighter, even gentler than before, and Thomas feels his heart beating madly for how lovely it looks. 

"Come with me to the US next week, Thomas," he repeats, and all the while, he keeps fucking him, alternates between slow and hard thrusts, making Thomas feel every last one of his nerve-endings, alighting his body with fireworks he didn't know it was capable of. "Oh  _ bloody _ …" Oliver chokes as Thomas winds his legs around his waist and squeezes his cock inside him, not responding to his offer other than by demanding another kiss. 

Words are forgotten for another long while after that, neither man's coherence going further than moans and whimpers and curses muffled in shoulders and neck and mouths. Their hands grip each other's skin, slipping on sweat and catching on body hair. They come just as they'd started this, with Oliver's eyes seemingly filing away every minute expression Thomas goes through and Thomas not quite believing what just happened, is happening to him. 

It's intense, and Thomas shivers with the aftershocks of his climax long after Oliver's pulled out. He doesn't go far though. They stay, laying on their sides with heavy gazes lost in each other, fingers tracing idle patterns on equally heavy limbs. 

"The Hamptons?" Thomas asks when it feels like his voice won't betray him too much anymore. It fails, mostly, but only because Oliver is inexplicably good at reading him when so many others have misunderstood his intentions or rubbed him the exact wrong way in the past. 

"Would you like that?" 

"You don't know me, not really… I don't understand…"

"I think I know just enough to invite you to join me, in fact, if I know enough to do what we just did, then I think I know enough for a lot more, but we can talk about that again much, much later if you'd rather." 

He looks so serene, so self-assured, it's tempting to believe him. 

"I'd have to leave here--"

"Well yes," Oliver laughs. 

"And find a new job there… I…" Thomas wracks his brain for a way to make this work, biting his bottom lip until Oliver gets closer again, and in a mirror of what he did downstairs, presses a finger to his mouth to tug it free.

"You wouldn't have to work, Thomas, not if you didn't want to, and not in service."

Thomas blinks. 

"But…" 

"I've looked for a man of your calibre for a long time dear, and I think we'd match, in more ways than this," Oliver waved around them with a wink. "You can think about it, take time to ponder, I won't take it personally, it'd be a big change."

Thomas coughs in his rush to respond to that, to interrupt that line of thinking, "I… I don't need time." 

"You don't?" Oliver rolls to his stomach, leaning on his arms to keep looking at Thomas. His back and the line of his backside proves distracting for a minute but Oliver patiently waits for him to gather his thoughts, amusement and appraisal of his own coloring his face. 

Thomas shakes his head, "I don't. Take me." He breathes, emotions, both disbelief and giddiness lacing his voice. 

"Brilliant!" 

And it is, and it will be, if Thomas can just trust Oliver to take care of him, and himself to not sabotage it. 

Brilliant indeed. 

  
  



End file.
